Atonement
by Cerih
Summary: Sequel to 'Lost, Found and Lost Once More'. Since their mission together, Nikita has disappeared and Michael receives a strange message. Basically my take on what might happen next.


Disclaimer: I don't own Nikita.

Author's note: I haven't seen the episode after 'One Way', so this is my biased idea of what might happen. It's not going to happen, I don't suppose, but it's a nice thought.

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Atonement

'_1723 Marshall Road, warehouse 2_'

Michael stared at the text message he had received in confusion. The address meant nothing to him, nor did the number it was sent from. A quick check online and he found that the address was in an industrial area just out of town, but told him nothing about why it had been sent to him. Him receiving the message was suspicious in itself, for only a few knew his mobile number and even fewer possessed the technology to hack into the Division's network to find his current number. The organisation made a point of changing all the phone numbers regularly.

_Nikita could have managed it_, he thought and then shook his head. He had heard nothing of Nikita since she had foiled his last desperate attempt to kill Kassim and that had been six months ago. It was almost as if she had given up her futile war against the Division and had chosen to disappear permanently. Perhaps she was sipping a cocktail on a beach somewhere even as he thought of her, but that was unlikely. Despite his lingering anger at her role in preventing his suicide mission, a part of him felt uneasy for not knowing where she was.

Eventually his curiosity got the better off him and Michael took off, heading towards Marshall Road. When he got there, he noticed that the area had been hit hard by the most recent recession, as rows and rows of empty warehouses greeted him. He had no trouble finding his destination, although warehouse 2 looked just as abandoned as all the others. He did however realise that his first impression was incorrect when he cautiously walked to the door and saw it was secured by three brand new locks. It took him a matter of minutes to pick them and with his gun drawn, he stepped from the bright sunshine into the gloom.

Once his eyes adjusted to the change in light levels, Michael saw that the warehouse was largely empty, save for a figure sitting on a chair in the middle of the room. As he closed the door and stalked closer, he realised that 'sitting' did not quite cover it. The metal chair was bolted to the concrete floor and the man on the chair was cuffed to the metal chair legs from his hands and feet. He was also wrapped in a chain and there was even a length of chain running around his neck and attached to another bolt on the floor. Whoever had secured the seemingly unconscious man had clearly wanted to make it absolutely certain that he would not be able to escape.

The man seemed to sense his presence and stirred. When he lifted his head, Michael inspected for the first time not his bindings but the man that was so helpless before him. He gasped when he realised that he was looking into the groggy eyes of the man from his nightmares, Kassim. Judging by his dilated pupils, he had been drugged, but he appeared otherwise unharmed. Michael glanced around the large space for any clues as to how Kassim had got there, when something caught his eye. Walking back to the door, he found his trusted knife taped to the metal, confirming his suspicions that Nikita was behind this. Pulling the knife free, he turned to Kassim, who seemed recognise him for the first time.

"Michael?" The terrorist spoke slowly. "So you are behind this all?"

"I have no idea how you got here," he replied, "I'm merely glad we finally meet on my terms."

"I was mistaken the last time we spoke," Kassim said, clearly gathering his thoughts despite the sedatives.

"How so?"

"I said you did not fight in the name of God. Now I know that is not true." His words made Michael frown.

"What do you mean?"

"The being you sent after me could only have been a dark angel of vengeance, a divine warrior." Kassim shivered.

"Nikita?" Michael's frown deepened.

"She did not care to introduce herself. But when she spoke your name, she put fear into my heart." The terrorist struggled feebly against his bonds, making the chains rattle.

Michael suddenly realised that he was wasting time. Nikita's actions had presented him with the opportunity to finally lay rest the ghosts of his past and he had no intention of wasting it. Gripping the knife tighter, he advanced towards Kassim until they were just a metre apart. He considered briefly how his family's murder should die, but when it came down to it, he found he could not stomach the idea of torturing the helpless man. A quick flash of the knife later and Kassim's throat split wide open. As the terrorist bled to death, Michael looked around the rest of the warehouse and found the Nikita had thoughtfully left a bottle of bleach and several large canisters of petrol for him. Because of the size of the metal structure and the concrete floor, he could burn the body where it was seated without rousing any suspicions. Slipping on two sets of latex gloves, he got to work.

Michael left the warehouse some time later, pausing to re-engage all the locks. Only a thin line of smoke trailed from under the door, otherwise nothing betrayed the funeral pyre that was raging inside. Making sure no one was around, he hurried to his car. Once inside, he pulled out his phone.

'_I need to see you._'

The message was sent before it occurred to him that Nikita might have already discarded the phone. Disposable phones were harder to trace, but she was nothing if not careful. Following an impulse, he dialled the number, but was unsurprised to hear an automated message saying that the person he was trying to reach was currently unavailable. He started the car, hoping every moment that his phone would ring.

'_Please let me see you_.'

Michael had been driving around aimlessly for over an hour, strangely unwilling to return to Division. The sun had set and he found the darkness somehow soothing. He hoped that his second message would persuade Nikita that he was serious and his heart jumped when his phone buzzed almost instantly.

'_Club Iris, 30 minutes_'

Michael let his eyes sweep the room as he entered the dimly lit club. Not seeing Nikita anywhere, he chose a table at random and sat down. A waiter approached him almost immediately, but he waived her away. He disliked the club instinctively, it was too dark and the music was loud enough to make conversation difficult. Why Nikita had chosen it he had no idea, aside from the obvious fact that it was a public place.

He spotted her as soon as she walked in and she headed straight for him. She wore a long black coat and large sunglasses that hid her eyes, leaving her face an unreadable mask. She took a seat opposite him, the small round table the only thing separating them and yet it seemed to Michael that they were miles apart. There had always been something about Nikita that made him feel right at home around her, but now the feeling was gone. How quickly they had gone from lovers to strangers, he mused to himself, unable to suppress a twinge of regret.

"We need to talk," he finally ended the silence between them. "But this is not exactly an ideal place. Would you come back to my place, so we'll have some privacy?"

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Michael." Her response was barely audible over the music.

"Please."

Michael leaned forward and pressed something against her knee under the table. She glanced down and then her fingers slid to grasp the hilt of his knife. He reached behind himself discreetly and soon his two guns were also resting on Nikita's lap. She quickly hid the weapons under her coat and then nodded. They stood up and he led the way outside, both of them walking in silence.

Once outside, he looked around for a taxi, but she had other plans and joined the queue to get in a bus that went the right way. Michael followed her quickly in and sat next to her at the back of the bus. Throughout the journey, neither of them spoke. Only the subtle movement of her head indicated that she was busy watching the other passengers, constantly alert for any signs of danger.

Michael had moved couple of times since Nikita had left Division, but when they got off the bus he suddenly realised that she knew exactly where they were going. He led her into the apartment building and to his door and while he was unlocking the door, he noticed that she had drawn out her gun. She followed him in, doing a quick sweep of all the rooms to ensure they were empty and then settling against a wall in his lounge, where she could keep on eye on the front door. She had not put away her gun, but at least it was now pointing at the floor.

He had not expected to feel quite so hurt by her apparent lack of trust, but he could hardly blame her. He wondered if she had felt the same when he had told her he did not trust her. Michael shrugged off his coat and went to get two beers from the fridge. He opened them both and placed them on the coffee table, so that she could choose one if she wanted a drink.

"Would you," he hesitated, "would you please take off the glasses? I'd like to see your eyes."

Nikita pulled off the sunglasses and slipped off her coat, laying them on a chair and leaving her gun on the top within easy reach. When she straightened and lifted her wary eyes to meet his, Michael was astonished to see how tired and worn out she looked. She was painfully thin and without the coat on he saw that both her arms were wrapped in bandages. Seeing the worry in his eyes, she averted her gaze.

"What happened to you?" Michael asked carefully.

"I promised I would help you find Kassim." She replied simply.

"And that's what you've been doing the past six months?" He asked, astonished.

"You deserved closure." She said quietly.

"You abandoned your mission to take down Division, just to let me have my revenge?"

He could barely comprehend his own words and as he stood there staring at her, the numbness that he had felt ever since Kassim drew his last breath finally lifted. He suddenly realised that the singular obsession that had driven him for almost a decade was gone. He had done the one thing he had sworn he would do and it felt like now he would be able to mourn for his lost wife and daughter properly. He searched for the familiar grief within him, but found only emptiness. It was as if killing Kassim had cauterised the wounds he had carried for so long, leaving him with a second chance in life.

Michael walked to Nikita and cupped her face in his hands. She seemed a little blurry and he realised he was crying. Her hands came to rest on his hips and he pulled her into an embrace. When her scent enveloped him, he let out an involuntary sob, causing her to hug him tighter against her. Lost within their embrace, Nikita and Michael finally found the atonement they had sought for so long.


End file.
